Worry
by JantoJones
Summary: This is the companion piece to 'A Hard Lesson', so you should really read that first. Basically, this is Napoleon's side to the story.


It was against Napoleon's instinct, but he had to leave Illya behind. The informant they'd liberated possessed information which could hinder THRUSH operations worldwide. There'd been a very real danger that they could have been prevented from getting out, so Illya had opted to stem the tide while Napoleon and the informant escaped. The agents had agreed a meeting point and a timeframe. If Illya wasn't out in fifteen minutes, Napoleon would continue on to the waiting helicopter.

Watching the time tick away, Napoleon silently willed for his communicator to signal Illya's escape. The sound never came, so reluctantly, he indicted for his charge to follow him.

"I hope you're worth it," he muttered to the man.

By the time they reached the helicopter, snow was starting to fall. The pilot, Jim Higgins, assured him that it was safe to fly for now and that they would get to HQ with no problems. As they left the ground, Napoleon looked for any sign of his partner. He could see Thrushmen heading towards their location, but Illya was conspicuous by his absence.

"Will we be able to come straight back here when we drop off Mr Manford here?"

"The snow is set to get heavier," Higgins told him. "We won't be able to return until it stops. I will remain on stand-by."

Napoleon thanked the pilot before taking out his communicator to contact Mr Waverly. He asked his boss to organise a rescue party form the nearby field office. There were four permanent Section 2 agents there, plus half a dozen Section 3s.

"Very well Mr Solo," the Old Man agreed. "I had hoped this operation would go without a hitch, but I suppose these things are often inevitable. It will take a little while formulate a plan of attack, but we shall go after your partner as soon as possible."

"Thank you Sir."

"Once you have delivered your package back here, and your pilot deems it safe" Waverly continued. "You may fly back and bring Mr Kuryakin home."

Napoleon thanked Mr Waverly again and tucked his communicator away. All he knew about the facility he had left Illya in, was that it was an educational establishment. The pre-mission report he had read, told of a school for the elite of THRUSH to learn strategy and persuasion techniques. Napoleon had sneered at the term 'persuasion techniques'. The fancy words didn't detract from their meaning. It was just another way of saying torture. Solo had absolutely no doubt that the THRUSH instructors would be overjoyed to have Illya Kuryakin in their grasp. The Russian was known throughout that organisation and had managed to become a pain in the backside for the upper echelons.

It took twenty five minutes to fly to back to HQ, by which time the snow had really set in. Higgins promised faithfully to call Napoleon the second it was safe to fly. The agent himself led Mr Manford to Waverly's office. He introduced the two men to each other, requested a section 3 agent to guard the informant, and then headed to the commissary for coffee. Along the way, he called into medical and asked for a doctor to be ready to go when he was.

The commissary was fairly empty and the atmosphere subdued. The news of Kuryakin's capture had spread through the building like wildfire. No-one said a word to Napoleon. Every agent knew that no amount of cold comfort would bring a man from his funk until his partner was safe. Solo hated the feeling of impotence. Illya was probably suffering at that very moment, while he was stuck at HQ. He knew that help would be on its way to his friend as soon as it could be organised, but he wanted to be there himself. After what seemed like hours later, but was in reality about forty-five minutes, Napoleon got the summons he was waiting for. He sprinted to the helicopter, where he was met by the medic.

About fifteen minutes from their destination, Napoleon was contacted by one of the field agents, informing him that they were about to storm the school.

"Okay," he acknowledged. "Keep me informed."

After a further ten minutes, he was contacted again.

"We have the building secured Mr Solo," Agent Myers told him. "All THRUSH members are either dead or captured."

"What about Illya?" Napoleon asked impatiently. He didn't really care about the enemy at that moment.

"I hope you have a doctor with you, because Mr Kuryakin has been tortured."

Solo had expected that. "How bad?"

"Couldn't say for sure," Myers replied. "He's currently unconscious and, from the looks of it, they've been using him to demonstrate different methods."

"We'll be there in five minutes. Can you move him and meet us? I want to get him in the air as quickly as possible."

"No problem. We also need to find him some clothes."

Shutting of the communicator, Napoleon looked over at the medic. The doctor gave him, what he hoped, was a reassuring smile. He'd treated Kuryakin many times and was always impressed by the man's resilience and powers of recuperation. Napoleon was feeling furious. Why was it always Illya who suffered worst at the hands of THRUSH? The treacherous voice in the back of his head told him it was because of the Russian's habit of throwing himself in front of trouble. Solo couldn't help but smile a little at that thought. Illya really did take his duty very seriously, and would always put the safety of others first. His habit of goading his captors, so that they would concentrate their energies on just him, was a constant annoyance to the American.

The helicopter had barely touched down when Napoleon saw the field agents running out with the limp form of his partner. He was incredibly touched to realise that, not a single one of them, was wearing a jacket. The garments had all been used to cover Illya. As he was loaded into the helicopter, Illya's eyes opened. He blearily looked into the face of his worried friend.

"Don't worry Tovarisch," Solo was saying. "You're going to be ok now."

"Napoleon," Illya whispered. "I quit."

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Once back at HQ, Napoleon went with Illya to medical; not that anyone could stop him. As soon as it was determined that he would suffer no permanent physical damage, Illya persuaded Napoleon to go back to work. With great reluctance, Solo headed to his office to begin the reports; one for the extraction of Mr Manford, and one for the rescue of Agent I. N. Kuryakin.

Napoleon wasn't surprised when Illya entered their shared office a few hours later. The man looked tired and unwell, but was aware that he would probably prefer for Napoleon not to mention this. The senior agent was in no doubt that Illya should be on medical leave, but knew that it wouldn't happen. When it became clear that Illya wasn't going to speak, he asked him if he really was going to quit. The answer surprised him. Normally, the Russian would dismiss such words as delirium, but this time he didn't; telling Napoleon that he had meant it, but wouldn't go yet.

Solo was surprised further when Illya admitted to not feeling fine and that he was taking himself off field duty for a while. This was a very worrying turn of events for Napoleon and he needed to tread carefully; baby steps would be needed.

"How about dinner, on me?" He offered. "Do you feel up to it?"

The smile Illya gave him was sad but full of gratitude.

"That would be very agreeable Napoleon. Thank you."

Napoleon didn't know what was going to happen, but he was determined not to let Illya be eaten up by this latest horror. He would talk to Mr Waverly and make sure that his partner had all the time he needed to regain his confidence.

The end.


End file.
